


One I Never Looked For

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 09:25:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6464860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There wasn’t supposed to be a next generation of Waynes. And neither Alfred nor Bruce had ever been so happy to be wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One I Never Looked For

**Author's Note:**

> Based on that line Alfred says in BvS. I couldn’t stop thinking of Damian when he said it. Not exactly a BvS ‘verse, obviously, but. It’s Batfleck and movie Alfred, alright. Just deal. Supplemental listening: ‘Sweetest Devotion’ by Adele. Another day, more trash. I’ll stop one day, I swear.

_“I hope the next generation of Waynes won't inherit an empty wine cellar. Not that there's likely to_ be _a next generation..”._

Alfred had said it once, a long time ago, with disappointment. Regret. Acceptance. 

That was after Jason. Before Tim. The girls. Damian.

…Damian.

Damian, who was a purposeful accident. Damian, who was never supposed to exist. Was never supposed to be more than a thought, never supposed to be named _Damian_ at all. 

If Bruce had his way, he’d have been named Thomas. Or maybe something related to Martha, if there was such a name. Maybe he’d have been Bruce Jr., though even now – that was a silly thought. 

But if Bruce had his way, if Bruce had the chance to try and create the child he _thought_ he wanted, he would have never gotten the child he _has_.

And how terrible would that have been, to of had to go without _this_ child.

Slowly, he sipped at his tea. Leaning back in the chair and listening as that little boy – the one who wasn’t to exist – laughed. A rare sound, one Bruce never took for granted, especially now, after they’d already lost him once.

He was…playing. Damian Wayne was _playing_ , and that might have been even rarer than his laughter, but no less sweet. Competing with his brothers, with Dick and Tim while Jason refereed from the sidelines with Titus. A massive game of catch, or something with water balloons. He wasn’t sure, couldn’t see from where he was sitting. Didn’t really care, either. 

Damian was laughing, Damian was _safe_. Damian _existed_ , and that’s all that _mattered_.

He watched, as Damian tried to dodge around Dick’s arm. Giggled when he was caught, when Dick held him for a few seconds, pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek even as he struggled to still hit Tim with whatever was in his hand.

And Bruce couldn’t help it – he thought back to that time. _Not that there’s likely to_ be _a next generation…_

It was a dark time then, though by no means the darkest. But he wondered what that Bruce would think, if he was told that this was his future. If the Flash appeared to him again in a burst of light and said, “You’re going to have five kids one day, Bruce.” Or even, “You’re going to have a son with Talia al Ghul, Bruce.”

That Bruce would probably have laughed, demanded proof. Or maybe that Bruce would have denied it outright, claimed it impossible, called you a liar. Beaten you senseless for even suggesting it.

Damian practically squealed now, as he caught Tim, was riding on his back, laughing loudly, triumphantly, in his third eldest brother’s ear. Tim who, though wincing, was taking it in good nature, and toting the child around like the princeling he was. 

Bruce felt a smile falling onto his own face, as he watched his boys run around. As Damian tortured Tim and Dick moved to bother Jason. As Titus barked and birds chirped above them. As he thought of the old him, the miserable, lonely, _angry_ man he used to be.

A chuckle bubbled loose as he looked up at the clouds.

_Where would I be without them?_

“Father!” Bruce blinked and looked back down, just as footsteps stomped up the stairs of the porch, followed quickly by the scratches of Titus’s claws. Damian was there instantly, slamming into the arm of his chair, rocking forward with the momentum. “Father,” He breathed. “Todd refuses to properly join our game, and we’re uneven.”

Bruce blinked up at him, took in his dark cheeks, and the rosiness that accented them. His dark, shaggy hair, that had just the hint of curls. His chubby cheeks and curious blue eyes.

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.” Damian hummed seriously, though still jovially, as he glanced over his shoulder. “I may require assistance.”

“Oh, really?” Bruce asked with a smile, then turned and looked across the table. “What do you think, Alfred?”

“I _think_ young Master Damian is not going to take no for an answer.” Alfred replied pleasantly, sipping slowly at his iced tea.

Bruce looked back up at Damian, who was staring fondly down at his dog. He let out a sigh, filled with fake exasperation as he put his own tea on the table, and moved to stand. Damian gave him just enough room to get to his feet, staring up at him expectantly.

And Bruce couldn’t help himself. Damian hated it on a normal day, but he reached out anyway, and ruffled his hair. Damian seemed to be in a mood to allow it, just closed one eye, smirked and went with the motions, even when Bruce dropped his hand from his son’s hair to his cheek. 

_Where would I be without_ him?

Alfred’s old voice came back.

 _Not that there’s likely to_ be _a next generation…_

But there was. Alfred had been wrong, because there _was_ a next generation of Waynes, and he was _beautiful_.

They _all_ were.

He ran a thumb across Damian’s cheek and chuckled, dropping his hand. “Sure.” He decided. “Why not.”

Damian’s smile – still missing that one tooth – was blinding as he spun around and raced down the stairs, “Father is on my team!”

“Not fair!” Tim shouted. “You can’t bring _Batman_ to a _Robin_ fight!”

“Well then you should have thought of that before you and _Grayson_ teamed up on me!” Damian countered proudly. Bruce rolled his eyes as his youngest barreled down the steps, and turned back to Alfred one last time. 

Alfred was still watching the boy go, was still watching as Dick got a hold of him once more, and Tim too, and draped himself over the both of them. His eyes were misty, but he seemed content. Pleased. _Relieved_. 

_Not that there’s likely to_ be _a next generation…._

Looks like Bruce wasn’t the only one happy that the old butler had been wrong that day. 

Looks like he wasn’t the only one completely and utterly _smitten_ either. 

“Go on, sir.” Alfred smiled softly. “Before they _really_ start fighting.”

Bruce snickered lightly, exhaling quickly in mock nervousness as he and Titus descended the stairs and joined the fray. 


End file.
